Humans of the Forge
by Strife'sBitch
Summary: Fury has brought the surviving Humans to the Forge Lands to live safely among the Makers, and Strife soon follows suit. Persephone, an observant young adult, works through her frustration with Strife after discovering he was her close friend, Jones, all along. As corruption begins to spread through the Forge, she and Strife will reconnect as they work to save Humanity once again.


Icey water streamed down a cluster of rocks as Persephone watched. The sound was tranquil, and it brought her back to the home she grew up in, where a stream cut through the woods behind her house. She would play there, free and unattended, to experience the world in the rawest way possible. But here, she was ever under the watch of a Maker, or a Horseman.

Fury had brought her and the other Humans here to the Forge Lands through a portal when the Destroyer raided Haven. Why here, Persephone would never understand. The world appeared to be dying and was no safer than the Demon plagued Earth. There were whispers among the Makers of the "Corrupted", which formed from the ground and slashed at anything they saw with blind rage. They never allowed the Human's to wander outside of Tri-Stone because of this. The only improvement seemed to be a lack of Demons. Even still, Fury told them of similar creatures lurking in the Fjord.

Had someone asked Persephone at any given time before the Apocalypse, she would have told them that visiting another world with sentient life was on her bucket list. But this was not what she wanted anymore. She missed her home. She missed the change of the seasons, the animals and chirping birds, and the food, no matter how scarce it got. Here the fruit was sour, and the vegetables tasted like crusty dirt. And yet, Earth was a foreign place to her now. Wrought by war and Hell and Heaven. She felt passion for it, but she also felt despise and disgust for it. So she guessed The Forge Lands were no better or worse for her.

But at least there her people seemed relaxed and hopeful after settling into Haven. Here everyone seemed quiet, homesick, and sullen. Fury was still snappy, despite her supposed "acceptance" of the Humans. And the Makers were towering and intimidating. Even the kind, soft spoken Muria.

And so, here she was, isolating herself in a lone pasture, trapped behind giant walls of uncarved stone. Away from the others.

She soon grew sleepy under the entrancing sound of flowing water and allowed her eyelids to grow heavy and close. When she awoke, the world was dark. The water was still encompassing, but it was now joined in melody by strange singing insects that lit up a green hue. She heard her name being called, echoing behind the bend of cave from the way she had come from earlier, though it was hard to see now. She squinted, thinking it would help her see. It only blurred the glow of the insects into tiny green beams of light. She thought of hiding from the call of her name, but it made her feel childish. Something she would have done as a teenager.

"I'm over here," she called out. Her voice was hoarse for some mysterious reason.

Mayhem's head came into view first, and then his masked rider. The smoldering mane of the horse, despite that the flames were black, lit up their vicinity and faces. The rider recognized her, pushed his mount into a canter, and then stopped beside her.

"What are you doing out here, Persephone? We- well, I've been looking for you. Worried sick."

"I fell asleep by the creek I- I'm sorry. I woke up and it was dark, and I heard you calling my name."

"C'mon," he said holding out a hand for her. She reached out and he pulled her up and into the saddle in front of him. His belt buckle dug into her lumbar painfully and she cringed as he nudged Mayhem into a trot.

She remembered suddenly who exactly she was with, and her body tensed.

He used to be Jones. She used to confide in him, cry to him, and be motivated by him. She'd felt a genuine bond with him, even despite the feeling deep down that he wasn't who he said he was. And then months after her arrival here in the Forge Lands, when she'd thought he was left behind on Earth and dead, he returned as Strife…A Horseman of the Apocalypse. At first she didn't believe him. Not until he shape-shifted for all of them back into the man she'd befriended as proof. Then she felt betrayed. He'd lied to her face. Made up stories about "being Human and doing Human things" when she probed him with questions. He'd even once made her feel guilty for asking those questions. But now she was meant to just accept who and what he was all along. But it was hard and confusing and frustrating, so she had barely spoken to him since he arrived and could barely stand to look at him.

And now she was riding with him.

"Why is it always _you_ running away?"

She blushed furiously. "I'm not running away. I'm just…exploring."

"You're going to find trouble," he said firmly. "But…" He sighed. "I understand. Fury might not, though. I'm sure you feel trapped here away from home, but it's the best we can do to keep you all safe. I know the Makers are critical and frightening, but things should look up once Earth is cleared, and we can return."

She felt tears welling up deep inside her chest thinking of what it might be like to return to a cleansed Earth. Her throat began to burn and knot. He was just like Jones. Understanding and inspiring. She missed him, she missed talking to him, but her emotions made her stubborn and dismissive.

"I don't even want to go home," she admitted. "I mean, I do, but...I don't. It's peaceful here too, sort of. And, thinking of Earth and how it looks now, it…It will never be like before. Some of it gives me nightmares."

"You still have them?"

She cringed. The nightmares _were_ something she told Jones about. She _knew_ they were the same people, but why was it so hard to grasp that they knew the same things? Or that he would even remember such a detail.

She turned to look back at him instead of answering. He looked down at her with glowing yellow eyes. They were still expressive, even hidden behind the visor, and she could see a mirrored tension. But it wasn't Jones's face. This was a different person. A complex and powerful creature. Not a pathetic human, just as desperate to survive as she was. She felt she could no longer relate to him because of this.

She looked forward again and grabbed a clump of Mayhem's fiery mane.

"I'm still the same person, kiddo," Strife said softly, as if he knew what she was thinking and feeling.

Funny. She thought empathy was just a human trait. So far she'd only found sympathy from other creatures. And false empathy from those disguised as Humans.

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"You don't talk to me anymore. You used to share everything with me."

"I shared everything with Jones."

"Exactly. I _am_ Jones."

"Okay, then I shared everything with what I perceived to be another Human being. Or 'hairless simian', as Fury likes to call us," she added with pettiness.

"Oh, she hasn't called you guys that in like…"

"Three days?"

"She was in a bad mood that day," he defended.

"She's in a bad mood _every_ day."

"That's beside the point. I may be Strife to you now, but you can still come to me with conversation, if you want. Shit, you can even keep calling me Jones if you want. I kinda got used to the name."

Persephone shook her head. "I'm not calling you that anymore."

"Look." He pulled on the reins and Mayhem paused with an agitated grunt. "I'm sorry that I lied to you. I wanted to tell you, really. But it was safer that no one knew who I truly was. Not even Ulthane."

She paused and considered this. "I wouldn't have told anyone."

"But what if a Demon had gotten hold of you and interrogated you? Tortured you for information?"

"Well…" She crossed her arms. "Then, at least giving you up would've given them _something_ to stop them from beatin' me anymore."

He chuckled. "They still would've killed you. And what happened to not telling anyone?"

"Changes when you're in a life or death situation, I guess. Since we're throwing those around."

He laughed again, and she laughed too. This was the easy going nature of Jones that she missed. He made her quick to forget the situation she was in when they spoke.

She suddenly felt a tinge of guilt. Perhaps being mad at him and avoiding him all this time was wrong.

"You understand why I lied now?" He heeled his steed to continue on. They were just passing a giant fallen log, fast approaching the Tri-Stone.

She tensed again, the guilt intensifying and biting at the organs in her chest. "Yes…Strife. I do. I'm sorry that I've sort of, avoided you."

He smiled behind the mask and placed his hand on her head and rubbed it. Her eyes rolled back with pleasure as her scalp was massaged. "It's fine, Persephone," he said.

A loud clop began as Mayhem's hooves transitioned from soft grass to cracked stone. He carried them past the short bridge with the sound of water and crackle of lava sounding around them. When he reached the end, to Persephone's surprise and Strife's muted command, the mount fell into the ground dramatically like a phantom. The Horseman caught her under her arms after she yelped and then he placed her solidly on the brick flooring.

She turned to look at him and found herself having to crane her neck at least two feet higher than she did with Jones. He placed a hand on his hip, the one that occupied an empty holster. "I'm sure you're refreshed from that nap, but I suggest at least going inside and trying to get some more sleep. Or…at least simmer down and don't run off again."

She nodded and waited for him to open the enormous and impossible double doors of the Maker's Forge so she could slip inside the well-lit room and hunker down in her own personal corner. Some of the Makers who weren't occupying their own homes were huddled in the center of the forge, conversing or working or both.

"Ya' get lost out there or sum'n, lass?" Karn teased as she passed.

"No, I was napping."

He bellowed out a laugh. "It's easy for me to nap out there. I'm the biggest thing out there with nun' to fear. But ye' ain't nothing but a lit'le pebble. Best 'ope next time sum'thin don't flick ya the wrong way."

She sighed. Normally he was entertaining, but the last thing she wanted right now was to be reminded that she was tiny and powerless. She gave him an awkward smile in reply, and sunk down to her spot, lined with wool and stuffed leather. She rested her back against the wall and pulled her knees tightly to herself.

She awarded herself a glance at Strife, who had joined his sister and appeared to be arguing with her.

Persephone let out a sigh and waited patiently to fall asleep under the unfaltering ring of Valus's hammer.

* * *

A Note from the Author: To clear any possible questions, these events are meant to begin at the end of Darksiders 3. I have suggested that Fury's safe location for the Humans was the Forge Lands, where The Tree has not yet been blocked by Corruption, and so there are still many Makers thriving in Tri-Stone. Of course, my timeline may not be cannon, but I hope you enjoy the story either way. All comments are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Current cover-photo by: notesz


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